


How the Future Fell Out of the Sky

by Ducks



Series: Ducks' Malec Week 2016 Collection [5]
Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV), The Bane Chronicles - Sarah Rees Brennan & Cassandra Clare & Maureen Johnson
Genre: 1857 London, M/M, Malec Week 2016, Malec Week Day 5 Back to the Future Day, Modern!Alec, Time Travel, Vampire Scones and Edmund Herondale, Victorian!Magnus, the bane chronicles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ducks/pseuds/Ducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During "Vampires, Scones, and Edmund Herondale," somebody else falls out of the sky instead of Edmund. Poor Magnus gets a tantalizing view of a future he knows he has to wait for.</p><p>For Malec Week 2016 Day 5: : Back to the future day</p><p>What if Alec met Magnus in a different time setting, say around the time of the Circle, TID or TLH takes place or even before that. Or Alec accidentally ends up in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How the Future Fell Out of the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Sections in italics are direct quotes from "Vampires, Scones, and Edmund Herondale," ©2013 by Cassandra Clare and Sarah Rees Brennan -- see, that's how one gives proper credit where credit is due. Quite simple.

London, 1857

_It had been some time since Magnus was last in love, and he was beginning to feel the effects. He remembered the glow of love as brighter and the pain of loss as gentler than they had actually been. He found himself looking into many faces for potential love, and seeing many people as shining vessels of possibility. Perhaps this time there would be that indefinable something that sent hungry hearts roving, longing and searching for something, they knew not what, and yet could not give up the quest. Every time a face or a look or a gesture caught Magnus's eye these days, it woke to life a refrain in Magnus's breast, a song in persistent rhythm with his heartbeat. Perhaps this time, perhaps this one._

_As he walked down Thames Street, he began to plot ways in which to see Camille again. He should pay a call upon the vampire clan in London. He knew de Quincey lived in Kensington._

_It was only civil._

_"After all," Magnus remarked aloud to himself, swinging his monkey-headed cane, "attractive and interesting persons do not simply drop out of the sky."_

It was then that a devastatingly handsome, yet unfamiliar Shadowhunter leapt into a rather impressive somersault from the top of a nearby _wall and landed gracefully in the street before him._

_"Devastating ensembles made on Bond Street with red brocade waistcoats do not simply drop out of the sky!" Magnus proclaimed experimentally to the Heavens._

The newcomer stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. Magnus patted his shoulders to be certain he hadn't. Creatures with multiple heads were so rarely attractive.

 "Magnus?"

 Now he felt quite the fool, and rather wished he hadn't been drinking so much of late. How could he have met such a magnificent--if oddly dressed-- specimen of man, and forgotten about it entirely? He certainly rated remembering: the dark, thick wavy hair and pale, chiseled features of an ancient noble family, and big blue eyes so expressive it was like the sky had poured down into them and now smiled out at Magnus framed by soft, raven-wing lashes. He was very sorry indeed about the drinking.

 "To my chagrin, I am afraid my memory is lacking. Have we met?"

The young Shadowhunter stepped toward him, that expression holding equal parts deep affection, terrible sorrow, and no small portion of confusion. 

"It's me," he said, clearly expecting that to mean something to Magnus. He touched his chest with one rather large hand. "Alec."

Magnus tried not to look as terribly lost as he felt. "That's very nice. I enjoy the name...Alexander?" he ventured. He had known a number of memorable Alexanders in his time, and he hoped this one would become another. "I am Magnus Bane." He offered the young gentleman a gloved hand.

The new Alexander stared at it, then drew wounded eyes back to his. Poor thing was obviously addled somehow, running about in his nightclothes? Or perhaps they were some sort of workman's uniform: simple black shirt and loose, shining black pants, with unattractively rugged black boots.

"Are those silk?" he wondered aloud. He couldn't remember seeing such a material before, and Magnus made it his business to know everything about the latest fashions from the world's great houses.

His new friend glanced down absently at his terribly, pleasantly long legs. "No, I think they're nylon-cotton ripstop?"

Sounded like a foreign, magical language to Magnus. No matter, as long as the mysterious trousers were easily removed. "Magnificent! Well, Alexander, if we are to know one another better, perhaps you would like to join me for dinner at my club?"

Alexander was looking more carefully around their surroundings, now, and moved closer still to Magnus as if to share a great secret. Magnus bent eagerly toward him--he simply adored great secrets.

"What year is this?"

Odd question, but...alright. He was never one to turn away something just because it was odd. In fact, odd was one of his favorite things to turn toward. "It is the year of our Lady, Queen Victoria, eighteen hundred and fifty-seven, After Common Era. A.D. is just silly." Nobody but Catholic priests and their tortured students spoke Latin anymore, and everyone who didn't thought it meant "After David." David who, exactly?

The young man went marble pale, and Magnus was so concerned that he might faint, he ran immediately to help hold him up. An opportunity to experience the hard muscles of the young Shadowhunter's body, and quite appreciated.

"I hate portals," Alec murmured, but did not resist Magnus' assistance. This young Shadowhunter was so easy and familiar with him--how could they not know one another?

"Portals? What are portals?" Magnus wondered aloud. "We simply must get you somewhere to sit down. I would follow you into the Institute, but... I would rather avoid the nephilim if at all possible, presently. I suspect they would be no happier to encounter me again this soon, either."

"I am nephilim, you know," New-Alexander reported unnecessarily, pulling up corner of his untucked black shirt to expose his hard, cut oblique muscles...marked with the rune for Agility. Hm. Interesting. If he saw a Stamina rune, Magnus intended to skip dinner entirely and take this tasty morsel back to his home to test that one out, and discover how many others were carved on those miles and miles of delicious, shining cream skin. 

"Yes, I know. Do you live here at the Institute?" Magnus tucked his hand in the tall man's elbow, and steered him to the walk, where they could take a brief stroll to his house, or detour to a more public destination, if the boy didn't seem interested in intimacy.

"I live at an Institute. Most of the time. Just not this one."

"Ah." They strolled along the boulevard, and Magnus couldn't help but notice the big, blue eyes ticking to him strangely as they walked. The young man seemed both at ease, and yet uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the looks his clothing was getting from passerby. He certainly seemed perturbed over something, and Magnus was certain he himself had been perfectly polite, was dressed delightfully, and smelled wonderful, so it couldn't be him.

His house bloomed in front of them before he knew it, and in a few moments, he and his new friend were comfortably ensconced in the drawing room, sipping coffee and eating pastries.

All right, Magnus was sipping coffee and eating pastries. The young man was too busy staring at Magnus to eat or drink.

"Mr...I just realized I don't know your last name."

"Lightwood. Alec Lightwood."

"Oh! You're a Lightwood. Splendid." Although he did not think it splendid at all. Magnus knew Benedict Lightwood quite well, and found him and his proclivities rather distasteful. What branch of that poisoned tree could this fine young man belong to? He certainly didn't look like an selfish, cruel, unfaithful pervert. Not that Magnus judged such things. Perversion was, after all, a matter of perspective. Except cavorting with demons. That was just unpleasant and dangerous in a way that was not amusing. "Mr. Lightwood, you seem to be...befuddled about your presence here. I haven't seen you in the Institute during any of the negotiations..."

His blue eyes went wide...er. "Negotiations? For what?"

Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes. "The interminable and useless negotiations intended to create some kind of lasting peace between Shadowhunters and various downworld species. Quite useless, I believe, but one must persevere, I suppose." He didn't feel it necessary to mention that he was nursing his rather deep crush on Camille Belcourt at the same time. Although, looking at young Lightwood again, the pang of that infatuation was fading rather quickly.

"The Accords," the young man mumbled to himself, as if in awe. "They don't exist yet."

"Accords? Dear boy, the parties involved can't even have scones without an unpleasant scene. Anything resembling peace accords will be next to impossible."        

They sat quietly, the Shadowhunter staring off into space, obviously lost in thought, and Magnus uncomfortable because one of the things he hated most was silence when there should be scintillating conversation. Especially with a handsome swain.

"Mr. Lightwood, if I may be so bold...you seem nervous. Is there something I can do to ease your mind?"

He sighed, and his big body relaxed somewhat into the parlor chair on which he had previously simply been perched, as if ready to run at any moment.

"I don't belong here," he finally replied.

Well, that was unexpected. "However do you mean? Every kind of being is welcome in my home, even Shadowhunters. Well...some Shadowhunters, anyway, and I'll happily include you in spite of your being a Lightwood. As long as you don't bring demons with you."

"No, I don't mean like that." The young man raised those eyes, so full of emotion, to face him again, and Magnus had the sensation once more that he _should_ know this man in a way he hadn't known anyone in a very long time. Not just carnally, either. "I mean, I literally don't belong here. In this reality...or time, I guess."

"Time?" Magnus parroted stupidly. He had many theories about dimensional travel, and even some preliminary magic that might someday combine with the right technologies to create a simple method of travel to and from any location with a simple casting. But time travel? "What about the time? Are you late for something? I can call my carriage to take you."

"That's not what I mean." Alexander took a deep, fortifying breath, and for a moment, Magnus was terribly distracted watching the rise and fall of the strange man's broad chest. "I mean I'm from the year 2016. I stepped into a portal in my time that was supposed to take me to the west coast. California, I mean. Instead, I ended up here. London, I guess."

Magnus gave him a look, trying to discern if the boy was mad. He didn't look mad, only a bit upset.

"It was your portal, Magnus. You were in San Francisco, you cast the portal in New York to bring me to you, and..." he gestured vaguely to include the room and Magnus himself. "Wrong place, and apparently the wrong Magnus."

Well! Of course he knew that there were other versions of himself--if space could be manipulated and was not linear, then the chances were good that time wasn't either. But as Ragnor would no doubt say when he heard: how many Magnuses could one world bear?

He personally thought there could never be too many Magnuses. But it sounded like the one Alexander knew wasn't necessarily a different Magnus, simply a future one.

"Goodness. Well, I hope I'm still fabulous in the future."

The boy's face softened, and his smile held something Magnus didn't often see aimed at him: heart-deep affection. "You are."

Magnus' hand flew to his chest as if he could hold his heart in--it threatened to flutter away at this young man's attention. If he loved Alexander in the future, he certainly could not blame himself. He was suddenly filled with two things that tore at him: one, the knowledge that he had to find a way to send Alexander Lightwood back to his own time, and two--most of all, perhaps--he did not want him to go. Magnus wanted to see what it was about this particular Shadowhunter that made his future self break his solemn vow never to get involved romantically with one.

But of course, number one had to take precedence. This young man did not belong in this time, in this environment. Where would he go? What would he do? He certainly couldn't declare himself a Lightwood from the future at the Institute. They would have him shredded him to pate before the words finished coming out of his mouth. Magnus could keep him, of course... but if his future self loved Alexander, certainly he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of his company.

Besides, what would he do with a stray pet Shadowhunter?

"I see. I wonder how you ended up here. It doesn't matter. What I have to do is send you back. I'm sure future me is missing you by now. I certainly would be."

"I thought you said you didn't know what a portal was?" Alexander reminded him.

"I know what one is...theoretically. I just haven't quite perfected the magic to make one work yet. And I certainly don't know how to make one work through time."

"It's too bad that Dr. Who guy Simon always goes on about isn't around."

Magnus stared at him. "Nothing you just said resembles any language I've ever heard."

Alec shrugged, looking increasingly despondent by the  moment. Magnus stepped toward him, and gave in to the urge to reach out and touch the chiseled jaw. His fingertips crackled and tingled where they met his skin. "Please don't worry, Alexander. I will do my level best to get you home. And I am often paid a great deal of filthy lucre for my level best."

That earned Magnus a little smile, and just that much was enough to light the room far more than the gas lamps ever could.

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~

Magnus had every book and pile of notes that he had gathered in his years of research to create and stabilize magic portals for distance travel. On top of those, he carried out every tome about time travel in his substantial collection, fiction or theory. He drew notes in green fire all round the room, building possible spells until long past sunset. His poor guest fell asleep folded over the card table where he had been playing a game he called "Solitaire." Magnus had heard of it in his travels--it was all the rage in late 18th century Germany, but he had never been a fan of playing games with no chance to win sex, money or other treasures.

He recently had come close to the conclusion of his space portal studies, all he had to do was take the theory of time travel written by various warlocks through the years, and apply it. And give it up to the Angel that it would work.

While Alexander slept, Magnus went into his casting chamber and drew the correct circle to contain any energies that threatened to go wild. This would be powerful magic. Powerful enough to tear open the door to some rather unpleasant dimensions, or perhaps even to the void itself--who knew? He wasn't going to take any chances with an already dangerous proposition.

As he cast the portal, he wondered: did he dare put Alexander Lightwood in it, and trust that the boy's memory of his Magnus Bane was concentrated and emotional enough to draw him through any flaws in the magic itself? What if Magnus destroyed the young man, and never got to love him in the future? Assuming, of course, that they held a mutual affection for one another. But clearly the Shadowhunter cared for him, and considering how he felt about Alexander in the few hours they had known one another, how could he believe that he _didn't_ love him in the future?

No matter. The possible damage to the space-time continuum from a person from one time transferred to another could be catastrophic. He had to send him back.

He also didn't want his future self to be 160-odd years more lonely than he was now.

Magnus sent all kinds of things into all kinds of dimensions, including messages to places he knew many of his warlock friends would be across the years--many of them kept to very strict schedules when it came to their travels, so it was fairly simple to locate them.

It was long past midnight when he was as certain as he could be that the portal was safe, after he sent his night-black cat, Frankenstein, to Ragnor in what Ragnor said was the 20th century. A good focal point for his magic, since he needed to send Alexander 16 years ahead of that date. Frankenstein glared at him darkly from the farthest doorway away from his circle. Magnus would not have been surprised if the cat immediately ran away and sought out less traumatizing quarters.

"How's it going?" Alec asked from behind him, and Magnus automatically turned.

Yes, he could definitely love this man. He was so tall, so sure of himself, and yet carried an air of innocence only a very young mortal could. It was the kind of thing Magnus often found himself drawn to...and found himself heartbroken to see slip away.

He had a feeling, though, that his future self thought that pain worth it. The tall, fit body, the debauched angel's face, the broad shoulders, big hands and bigger eyes. There was little in the physical sense that Magnus would count against the appeal of Alexander Lightwood. Perhaps there was hope for the clan after all.

"It's... going. Alexander, you should know," he stepped away from the circle and closer to where Alec stood in the doorway. "This magic is very powerful, very new, and still unpredictable. I can't guarantee that you'll get home in one piece."

"I know." The man looked deep into Magnus' eyes, and felt the gaze deep in his soul. "But I have to try."

Magnus nodded. "All right." He rested a hand on Alec's forearm. "I hope, for both our sakes, that I am successful."

"Yeah. Me too." Now he saw the line between himself and future Magnus blur in Alec's blue eyes, as he reached up one large hand, cupped his cheek, and drew himself down for a kiss. It was brief, soft and tender, but it told Magnus many things that he didn't think he had ever heard before in all his many years. How lucky he would be in the future, if this worked. Gods, please let this work. "Thank you. Hopefully, I'll see you in a couple hundred years."

Magnus nodded, taking a moment to find his voice. "You need to focus as sharply as you can on your Magnus, and the place where your portal was originally supposed to open."

Alexander turned and faced the inside of the circle. Magnus traced the necessary runes in the air, then did the casting. The curtain shimmered to life inside the circle, appearing the correct electric purples and blues, and the magic felt strong, pulling firmly on Magnus' power.

"Go now, Alexander. Focus, and don't wait."

The man glanced quickly over his shoulder and gifted Magnus with a small, worried smile. He raised his hand, stepped forward...

And was swallowed by the portal. Magnus quickly closed it behind him.

"Good luck, Alexander Lightwood."

~~~~~~~~~~

Magnus was worried, and he did not like being worried. It made his hair wilt and his stomach upset. He couldn't drink the way he wanted to, because liquor ended up tasting like vinegar. His heart pounded like a world music orchestra had taken up residence in his chest, and he couldn't stop pacing back and forth, back and forth in front of the still-empty portal that should have brought Alexander to him hours ago.

14 hours ago, in fact. They had Face-Timed right before Magnus cast the portal, the magic had felt fine, nothing unusual, nothing he hadn't done a million times before.

So where was his Alexander? Was he lost somewhere in the void? Trapped in space? In some strange city across the world? At the bottom of the ocean? In the middle of a mountain?

He called the Institute, and soon had a hysterical Izzy, an angry Jace, and a concerned Clary to deal with on top of everything else. Now there were four people and two cats pacing around like they were waiting for the end of the world. 

Maybe they were. It would certainly be the end of Magnus'.

Suddenly, the portal crackled, snapped, and turned an unhealthy greenish purple color. Magnus began to push more energy into it, but it fought back, as if it didn't want to give up its contents.

Then it belched like a giant toad, and spat Alexander onto the floor.

"Alec!" He shouted, and slid down beside him.  "Alexander, are you okay?"

Alec opened his eyes and sprung upright. He grabbed Magnus roughly by the shoulders, and scoured him from head to knees. "It's you! You-you, I mean!" He crushed the shocked warlock to him, claiming his mouth in a deep, rough kiss, before pulling him away to look at him again. "What year is it?"

"Did he get hit on the head?" Izzy asked.

"It's...2016, my love. You left New York yesterday afternoon...but we don't know where you went afterward."

His family came over, and together, they helped him up. Hugs were had all around, but Alec's eyes were reserved for Magnus.

"I met you in the 19th century. London."

Magnus started, and flipped through his memories. He didn't remember much about 19th century London, except the development of his doomed love affair with Camille, the failed attempt to establish the Accords, and the horrific stripping of poor Edmund Herondale's runes in the name of love.

No Alexander.

"You didn't think you'd remember me. I was only there for a while, and you said the magic would scramble things." he pulled Magnus in for another hug, and the warlock squeezed as hard as he could. "You invented the portal, Magnus. Through time, right in front of my eyes. I didn't know you could do that."

"I didn't know either," he said with a shrug. "Well, good for me. Welcome home, Sweet." Turning to the others, he offered, "Is everybody in the mood for pizza? I'm starving."

Everyone laughed, relief evident, but Alec never let go of his grip around Magnus' shoulders.

He couldn't blame him. Magnus rather thought his Victorian era self was a bit of a fop. Thankfully, not a greedy or stupid one, though, or he might have kept Alexander for himself. Then he would have been forced to find out just what a trip to meet himself in the past might do to the time-space continuum.

Right now, he didn't care.

"Welcome to San Francisco, everyone," he said. What a strange day.


End file.
